Stiles Stilinski and the Forbidden Forest
by Kerosene Stevens
Summary: "Are you sure? I can -" Scott started, and Stiles cut him off with, "That was one time, Scott. I'm a fifth year now, I can handle lighting a candle -"
Hundreds of glittering rubies shifted in their glass container, causing small clinking noises to echo throughout the otherwise silent hallway. Exactly one hundred fell through the bottom, seeming to disappear into thin air as they went. Sunlight shone through the collection of gems, refracting colors across the stone walls of the corridor. When the rubies in the tube settled, it was clear to see that the three glasses to its right - partially filled with yellow topaz, sapphires, and emeralds, respectively - had many more than the first. Then the emeralds moved, twenty of their number vanishing. Even after this blow, they had a higher count than the rubies.

Jackson ground his teeth together.

"This isn't fair," Stiles protested for the fifth time. He ran a hand through his closely cropped hair before letting it fall, seemingly at a loss for anything else to say. "You can't just - a hundred? For what?"

"You were causing a scene, Mr Stilinski," their Potions professor replied coldly. Professor Harris looked down his nose at the three boys. "I can't have that kind of disruption in my classroom, especially not from you."

The third teen chose this moment to step in. "Sir," Scott McCall entreated, eyes wide and angelic, "we're really sorry about all this. We were following the instructions you gave us, really, it just - didn't work."

"It didn't," Stiles said vehemently, jabbing an accusing finger at Jackson, "because this a - this jerk knocked our entire supply of weasel fur into our cauldron!"

"And so twenty points were deducted from his house," the professor said smoothly. "It's only fair."

"You took a hundred from ours," Stiles argued, dismayed. "That's the part that's not fair."

Scott rubbed a hand over his face. "Stiles," he said heavily, "drop it."

"Why?!"

"Listen to your House mate, Mr Stilinski," Professor Harris said with a heavy air of condescension. "I would hate for anything else to happen to your House's points."

Stiles deflated with a theatrical groan. "Yes, professor."

"Excellent." Harris smiled, the very picture of House-biased slime. He was, after all, the Head of the Slytherin house. "Now run along to your Head of House for your detention."

"Detention?" Stiles echoed in horror.

"Both yourself and Mr McCall, yes," the Potions professor answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. The thin-faced man turned his back to the students, clearly ready to end the discussion.

"What about Jackson?" Scott blurted. He cringed when Harris paused, but clearly decided to go on when his words didn't garner any other outward. "He punched Stiles."

"I didn't hurt him," Jackson protested, sneering.

"Tell that to the mark on my face, dickweed," Stiles snipped, indicating his bruised cheekbone with an angry finger. "You deserve detention, too. Besides," he added, inspired, "Professor Finstock will want to know why only the two of us are there for detention. Y'know, considering Slytherin lost points, too, and I'm injured and all."

Harris turned around solely to scowl at the lot of them, adjusting his glasses as he considered this. "Fine," he said finally. "It's one detention," he explained over Jackson, who started complaining immediately. "I'm sorry, Jackson, but it needs to be done. The fuss these two will kick up isn't worth it."

The blond blanched. "But Professor -"

"You're excused from class for the next three days to recover," Harris explained, ignoring Stiles' spluttering, "but there's no real way around this initial punishment. You'll report to me in my office when you've completed the work Finstock's given you."

" Professor -"

"Now," Harris barked. The three teens startled. "Dismissed," he added, and turned on his heel once more to march back down the stairs leading to the dungeon. A corner of his cloak slapped Stiles in the face as he went.

The three boys were left standing there, angered and tense, in front of the House points until the bell rang.

"We'd better go," Scott said finally, dragging his feet to Finstock's office. Stiles and Jackson traded dark looks before sullenly complying.

**8**

"I'm pretty sure that's against the rules," Scott said uneasily.

"It's definitely against the rules," Jackson snapped, arms crossed. "You can't make us."

Stiles was the picture of nervous disinclination "It's called the Forbidden Forest," he pointed out. "As in, forbidden. Not allowed to go in. Normally I'd be all over that. In fact, I have been all over that before, even if ol' Scotty here won't come with. But this? This we cannot do. Sorry, coach."

Professor Finstock, who preferred to be called Coach to his face and Professor to anyone else's, rolled his eyes. As usual, he gave the general impression that he'd just been through a hurricane and thus was perpetually a mess with no time for anyone else's shit. He never made a whole lot of sense, either.

"This is your fifth year at Hogwarts, Bilinski," the man stated, "and you've only had minor confrontations with the school's laws. What kind of teenager doesn't break the rules on purpose? You all got detention; therefore, I'm tell you you'll be going into the Forbidden Forest to do - whatever it is our groundskeeper wants you to. I don't care to know what that is because she scares me. I need you, Bilinski," he took the opportunity to point a finger in Stiles' face, "to shut up, get a good haircut, and grow a spine. The rest of you, too. No arguments. You'll be at the pumpkin patch at eight tonight or else."

Scott put a supportive hand on Stiles' shoulder. "Stiles is right, Coach. It's dangerous."

Finstock jabbed his finger at all of them in turn. "Grow." Stiles. "A." Scott. "Spine." Jackson. "Now get out, and never tell me what that terrifying woman wants with you. Ever."

Jackson scoffed and stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets, making his way to the door. Scott looked between the Slytherin and his friend, shaking his head in a follow me gesture, before acquiescing and following.

"This is such a bad idea," said Stiles, who was starting to think that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all. He hefted his bag more securely onto his shoulder and shuffled after Scott.

"Watch out for werewolves," Finstock said gleefully from his candle-lit desk Jackson scoffed again, letting the door close behind the three of them.

"So," Scotty tried, smiling uncomfortably, "see you at eight?"

"I could have been a Ravenclaw," Stiles groaned.

**8**

The groundskeeper, a small woman with dark skin, long hair, obvious muscle definition, and a tendency to trail black feathers wherever she went, lived in a small hut by the pumpkin patch. Nobody really knew her name; she was gruff and direct, and nobody questioned her ability to pull full-sized pine trees along behind her come winter. This same attitude was only exacerbated tonight. She stood at the edge of the patch, walking stick chewing up the ground to her right, scowling furiously.

"You'll be with me tonight," she said without preamble. Jackson looked as though he wanted to say something possibly rude and definitely sarcastic, but a severe look from the groundskeeper had him closing his mouth. Scott was gripping his inhaler in his pocket and Stiles was distracted by the deep shadows at the treeline. The moon was full tonight, highlighting the leafy tips of the trees and casting the trunks in ominous darkness. "We've been hearing a lot of howling from the forest lately, so we'll be checking the trees for clawmarks. Someone tell me what crisscrosed clawmarks on trees mean."

"Werewolves marking their territory," Stiles explained distractedly. He could have sworn he saw something moving in the shadows. "Clawmarks surround the perimeter of a new pack's territory."

"Very good," the groundskeeper praised. As usual, she didn't sound too thrilled about anything, but her words were sincere. "And why are we worried about werewolves living in the forest? McCall?"

"It means the Ministry doesn't know they're there," Scott offered. "It's against the rules."

"That's right. And an unknown pack is a threat to the weres under the school's protection. If you see the markings, do not pass those trees," she stressed. "If you do, I can't guarantee your life."

"We shouldn't be doing this," Jackson muttered. The groundskeeper sighed.

"It's not the safest task for a bunch of fifth years," she conceded. "But you should've thought about that before running your mouths. Now." She placed the point of her walking stick on a knot of grass. "We'll be going in pairs. If you see marks, double back until you find the main path. Someone with me."

"Me," Jackson said immediately. Stubborn and prideful as he was, he knew that the safest option was to be with the groundskeeper.

"So Scott and I," Stiles said, going for cheerful but end ending up sounding nervous. "That's cool. We're buddies. Gonna be alone in the Forbidden Forest, like we always talked about. Good stuff. Yeah, Scotty?"

"Yeah," Scott agreed. He felt a little safer knowing his partner wasn't going to throw him to whatever weres there may or may not be out there.

The groundskeeper accepted this with a nod and reached into her coat, pulling out a light brown wand, holly and dragon heartstring, nearly ten inches long. With a quick flick and a whispered spell, she made two old-fashioned candle-lit lanterns burst out of the pumpkin patch and fly towards the students' faces. Stiles yelped and ducked, forcing Scott to reach out and try to snatch one out of the air even as he winced, anticipating a brick of glass and iron to the face. Jackson jumped sideways, swearing, and happened to snag it with a finger. The groundskeeper was far from impressed.

"Light those," she instructed. "You'll keep them lit and on your person at all times. Don't get separated from your partner. If you need help, send up a red flare above the trees. If you've found clawmarks, make it green and get out of there quickly. I myself will send up blue when it's time for us to meet on the main path again.

The boys nodded in agreement. Jackson lit the lantern with relative ease. Stiles fumbled the little door open, Scott holding it up for him ("Are you sure? I can -" Scott started, and Stiles cut him off with, " That was one time , Scott, I'm a fifth year now, I can handle lighting a candle -") as he stuck his wand - twelve and a half inches, rowan and phoenix feather - into the opening and muttered the spell. The flame sparked wildly before taking to the wick and settling into a slighty too-large flame. Stiles shut the door with a satisfied smirk. Scott just sighed and adjusted his grip on the lantern so he was holding it by the handle at the top instead of the base.

"Are we ready?" the groundskeeper checked, and after receiving three nods of affirmation continued, "Whittemore, with me. Pay attention to the skies."

She drew her thick cloak tighter around herself and marched off into the forest, Jackson scurrying behind her. Stiles and Scott look at each other over the lantern, uncertain.

"You first?" Scott suggested with a weak smile. Stiles nodded his acceptance, but Scott took the first step anyway.

**8**

 _Obviously there's supposed to be more. I had PLANS. There was another note with a lot of details on it, like how Derek's wand is eleven and a half inches, elder and unicorn hair. /handwaves/ A bunch of stuff_


End file.
